Grease Monkey
by Byaghro
Summary: Harry decides to take a break & try his hand at being a mechanic.


**Recipient: clear_stream18**  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 5,345  
**Pairing(s):** Harry/Draco (Hermione/Ron in the background)  
**Summary:** Harry decides to take a break & try his hand at being a mechanic.  
**Warning(s):** Wanking  
**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**A/N:** I don't know if this is exactly what you were looking for but hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway! *snuggles*  
Thank you **dysonrules** for being my cheerleader & beta & all around awesome person!

* * *

Harry looked from the damaged motorbike to the flimsy repair manual in his hands and back again. Perhaps Ron was right; maybe he should just fix the thing with magic and be done with it. After another moment of contemplation he shook his head. No, he wanted to do this the Muggle way. It would be a good project and would probably take him several months. Harry hoped that by the time those months had passed, he'd have some inkling of what he wanted to do with his life.

Everyone had been after him to pick a career path, pick a future – which really meant pick an Auror career and Ginny as his future. Thankfully Kingsley hadn't argued with him too much when he'd said he didn't want to join the Auror program.

Even more of a relief was the fact that Ginny had been so patient and understanding with him. When he'd told her he really didn't think they should get back together she'd merely nodded and informed him she had anticipated that and was already packing to join the Holyhead Harpies. They had accepted her mid-season and she was going to be abroad for the next few months.

She'd smiled and said she thought it would be better for both of them if they were far apart when the Press caught wind of the breakup. Or lack of a reconciliation. Or whatever it was. She'd been right too, the Press had a field day and speculation ran rampant. The truth of the matter was Harry didn't know what he wanted.

He didn't know what he wanted to be, what he wanted to do, or who he wanted to be with. The whole world was open to him and for some reason, instead of feeling liberated by this fact, he felt completely adrift. When Harry had stumbled across Sirius' old motorbike in the falling down garage in Godric's Hollow, he knew he'd found a purpose, at least for the time being.

After the war Harry had taken one look at 12 Grimmauld Place and shook his head in dismay. There was no way he was going to stay there. After turning down numerous offers from friends he found himself looking at the remains of his parents' home in Godric's Hollow. He didn't think he could bear to live in the house, even if it was remodeled. It didn't seem right to disturb those ghosts. Instead he cleared a bit of land at the back of the property and had a small cottage built.

It only had one room. There was an enormous fireplace, with very limited Floo connectivity, a small kitchen, an equally small sitting area and Harry's large, comfortable bed. The loo did have a door but since he lived alone, he rarely shut it.

And now, here he was, staring at an ancient motorbike, an "even a monkey could do it" motorbike repair manual, and a toolbox full of frightening-looking items that the clerk at the local auto shop had sworn he would need. Taking a deep breath, Harry set to work.

* * *

Draco stared at the monument to the Potters for a long time before he stepped through the gate and began picking his way toward the back. Potter, the younger, apparently didn't see fit to create much of a path to his cottage. Finally Draco reached the wards that marked the edge of Harry Potter's property.

He expected a house-elf to greet him; naturally Potter himself stepped from the grove of trees that hid his cottage from the main house. He was wearing faded Muggle jeans and a dark red t-shirt stained with sweat. His hair was even worse than usual and he had smudges of, something, smeared across his forehead.

Draco knew the moment Potter recognized him; a frown creased his brow and he opened his mouth, probably to ask what the hell Draco wanted. However, before he could voice his inquiry Potter seemed to notice Draco's official Department of Magical Law Enforcement robes and he simply said, "Malfoy. What brings you here?"

"I'm here for your monthly wand inspection, Potter," Draco replied in his most professional voice. The one he used to make it clear to underlings that every rumor they'd heard about his father's ruthlessness was equally true when it came to him.

Potter was, of course, unaffected. "My what now?"

Draco sighed. "Your wand inspection, Potter, as ordered by the Ministry. Surely you know about it, we sent several letters."

Green eyes blinked at him for a moment before Potter suddenly said, "Oh. That. Yeah, sure. Come on, I'll go get it."

Draco gaped at him. "You came to see who was at your wards without your wand?"

Potter shrugged and made his way through the trees toward his small home. "I knew it couldn't be anything too sinister. If you'd meant me harm you never would have made it past the front gate."

Draco refused to be impressed – much. When the branches finally parted to reveal Potter's home, Draco had to bite back a snort. It was every bit as small as Rita Skeeter had so gushingly described. "Brave hero returns to humble beginnings," she'd written. Draco would bet fifty Galleons that it was a palatial mansion on the inside. There was no way Potter would_actually_ live in a one room cottage on the edge of his parents' estate.

"Would you like to come in for a drink? It's awfully warm out today," Potter offered amicably enough.

His instincts were screaming at him to refuse on principle but curiosity about the inside of Potter's house won out. He nodded.

Potter gestured toward the front door. "Go in and make yourself comfortable. My wand's out in the garage."

Draco hesitated for a second, suspecting a trap, but decided that Potter would be daft to attack a DMLE employee at his home in an official capacity. As he pushed open the door he was suddenly glad that Potter had wandered off. The man really _did_ live in a one room cottage. For a moment Draco's mind boggled.

Recovering from his shock, he began to prowl about his ex-nemesis' home. There was a small, but presumably functional kitchen, if the dirty dishes were anything to go by. The sitting room could only be described as "quaint" and the loo was on the small side. However, the thing that really drew Draco's attention was the massive four-poster bed on the far side of the room. It could easily fit four people comfortably. He briefly wondered if the Boy Hero hosted Gryffindor orgies. Those thoughts led to visions of Potter's sweaty body tangled in the dark blue sheets. The room suddenly felt very warm.

His wayward thoughts were not helped by the fact that the object of his unexpected fantasies chose that moment to walk in the door.

Potter crossed the room, seemingly not caring that Draco was hovering beside his bed, and handed over his wand. "You know, when you said you were here for my wand inspection I thought you were trying to proposition me or something," Potter told him with a smile.

Draco choked on air. "What?" he wheezed.

"Wand inspection. I thought it was an euphemism or something," Potter replied. "Are you okay?"

"Water," Draco managed to gasp.

"Oh, right." Potter went to the kitchen and fetched Draco a glass of water.

The other man returned and handed Draco his drink. Draco tried not to gulp it down. Thankfully this gave him enough time to compose himself, although just barely.

Finally, restored to some semblance of indifference toward Potter, Draco returned his glass. He then went about casting the modified version of _Priori Incantatem_ that would show him the last five spells Potter had cast.

"Remind me again why you're doing this?" Potter asked conversationally.

"Because it is my job, Potter," Draco replied through gritted teeth. Ignoring Potter was much easier when the man didn't speak.

Potter sighed. "Yes, I know _that_. I meant why is the Ministry monitoring wands like this?"

Draco shrugged as the first wisps of spells began to emanate from Potter's wand. "They're trying to keep an eye on certain individuals suspected of shady dealings. In order to keep those people from claiming harassment, the Ministry picked a handful of other witches and wizards to monitor as well. And who better to use as a poster boy for their latest antics than the Golden Hero himself?"

Potter nodded. "Figures."

Draco looked at him sharply. Apparently a few months of isolation had mellowed Potter considerably. Draco distinctly remembered an incensed Potter shouting in the halls of the Ministry about how he refused to endorse anymore harebrained schemes. He'd gone into hiding shortly after that.

Finally the spell was complete and the vestiges of Potter's last five spells were visible. "Accio, Accio, Drying Charm, Cleaning Charm and… Lubrication Spell?" Draco said the last one with a speculative look at Potter. The man actually blushed. All of Draco's hard earned stoicism vanished. He cut his eyes back over to the massive bed and could clearly envision Potter spread out on the bed using a Lubrication Spell before plunging his fingers into his… Draco fought his own blush.

"It's not what it seems like," Potter mumbled. "I ran out of grease when I was working on my motorbike yesterday and didn't feel like going out to buy any."

Draco nodded but continued to look speculative. "I don't care what spells you cast, Potter, as long as they're not Unforgiveables. I just have to make a note of them." He tapped Potter's wand once and returned it.

Things suddenly felt awkward. "Well, I'll… see you next month," Draco told him.

Potter actually smiled. "Alright."

Draco tried to pretend the warm feeling that settled in his stomach was the beginnings of indigestion.

* * *

Harry spent the next three hours in the garage, staring at the motorbike and thinking about Malfoy. He remembered something Ginny had said when she was leaving. _I hope you find him, Harry._

At the time he thought it a slip of the tongue and he was too stunned by her easy acceptance of - everything - to correct her. Now he wondered if it wasn't a mistake after all. When they broke up, he thought that his disinterest in a relationship was focused on Ginny and the fact that he saw her as a sister more than anything. However, when he walked in his front door, already thinking about wand innuendos, and saw Malfoy hovering beside his bed, looking positively edible in his official Ministry uniform, Harry's first thought was that a simple push would topple the blond onto the sheets. And, if necessary, a Binding Charm would keep him there.

Perhaps Ginny knew him better than he knew himself. It wouldn't be the first time.

Harry finally decided that he wasn't going to get any more work done that day. He returned to the house for a warm meal and a Butterbeer or two. It wasn't until he went to take a shower that evening that he realized he'd had motor oil on his forehead through his entire encounter with Malfoy. Brilliant. The other man probably thought he was a slovenly idiot. Not that Malfoy didn't already.

He went to bed with a sigh, determined to forget the attractive blond.

* * *

Draco was ready for Potter this time. The last time he'd come, he'd been thrown off guard by Potter's innuendos and his huge bed and his Lubricating Charms. This time, however, Draco was prepared. Forewarned against Potter's attempts at charm, Draco would not fall prey to his libido this go round.

With that thought and a firm nod of his head, Draco approached the wards around Potter's cottage, expecting the same resistance he'd felt last time. There was none. He faltered, wondering if this was some sort of Gryffindor trick, then it dawned on him – Potter had keyed Draco to his wards. The man that approached a stranger without his wand had now keyed one of his worst enemies into his wards. Trusting sod. Draco shook his head, disgusted, and picked his way through the trees.

He was about to knock on the door to Potter's cottage when a loud crash and a string of expletives floated through the air in the direction of the main house. He made his way back toward the banging, cursing and, now that he was closer, screech of some awful band that all indicated Potter's location.

Draco rounded the corner, prepared to make a comment about how Potter was disturbing the wildlife of half the county, when the sight that met his eyes made his mouth drop open and his steps come to an abrupt halt.

This was obviously the old garage. Rusted gardening tools lined one wall while a shiny new toolbox sat against the other. Tools and parts and items that looked more like implements used for torture than vehicle repair were strewn all about the mostly dismantled motorbike in the center of the room. The general feel of chaos, however, was not what stopped Draco in his tracks.

The most arresting feature of the whole scenario was Potter, or what he assumed was Potter's lower half, sprawled beneath the bike in question. Draco could see the edge of a white t-shirt that had ridden up to reveal a strip of tanned skin across Potter's abdomen. The would-be mechanic was wearing cutoff shorts that barely covered two inches of his thighs, much less his long, well muscled legs.

As he shifted and stretched, obviously reaching for something just out of his grasp, Potter's legs fell open. Draco's eyes widened. The Hero of the Wizarding World wasn't wearing any pants. Draco had seen a distinct glimpse of Potter's testicles and he suddenly wondered wildly if the tip of Potter's cock would peek beneath the hem of the garment if he stood up.

"Don't just stand there, make yourself useful. Hand me that wrench would you?"

Draco jumped like a scalded cat and was immediately thankful Potter couldn't see him, or at least he hoped Potter couldn't see him.

He made his way around the bike, trying to pretend he hadn't just been fantasizing about Potter's cock, and promptly burst out laughing.

"What did you do, Potter, dunk your head in a vat of motor oil?" he asked between chuckles.

Potter scowled at him, or at least he appeared to; it was hard to tell since the man was covered from head to mid-chest with thick, black oil. "I had a bit of a mishap," he said petulantly.

"I should say so," Draco replied with a grin. He couldn't seem to stop chuckling. Potter looked so ridiculous – _and adorable_, a small part of his brain whispered. He stifled that part.

"Fine, hand me my wand so I can cast a Cleaning Charm," Potter snapped, holding out his hand imperiously.

Draco glanced to the side and saw Potter's wand on a nearby workbench. "Oh no," he said, snatching it up quickly. "I want to see how many Lubricating Charms you've been casting, Potter."

He couldn't tell for sure, but Draco would have bet half the Galleons in his vaults that Potter was blushing. He mumbled something that Draco didn't quite catch and started extricating himself from the motorbike.

"What was that?" Draco all but sang, sensing that Potter was about to reveal something mortifying.

"I _said_," the dark haired man growled, finally able to stand again, which only served to spread the oil farther down his shirt, "I've learned how to cast that one wandlessly."

Draco's eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. "Oh _really_? And why is that? Been wanking a lot have we? Got tired of reaching for the lube all sprawled out on that huge bed of yours?" Draco shut his mouth with a snap, hoping that Potter wouldn't notice how much that last question sounded like a sexual fantasy. One that Draco would deny having unless force fed Veritaserum.

Thankfully, Potter was apparently distracted by the wanking bit of Draco's interrogation and left off wiping his face with a flannel to glare, more effectively this time. Potter began to stalk forward, intent on doing Merlin knew what, but Draco drew his own wand and held him at bay.

"Oh no, I'll not have you dirtying my work robes with your filth," Draco said warningly.

An unholy light came over Potter's face and Draco realized a moment too late he'd given the man even _more_ reason to approach. He quickly cast a heavy-duty Cleaning Charm on Potter.

Potter yelped. "Ow! Hey! Leave some skin will you?"

Draco snorted and began to cast the Reveal Spell on Potter's wand. "Cleaning Charm, Accio, Cleaning Charm, Accio." Draco glanced over at Potter with a smirk but refrained from comment. "And Warming Charm. Merlin, Potter, were you really cold? In this beastly weather?"

"Actually that was for my breakfast yesterday. I'd just gotten it ready when Ron Floo'ed."

A flare of jealousy shot through Draco that was both unwanted and unwarranted. He did his best to ignore it. "Well," he said, no longer having a reason to be in Potter's presence, "I guess I'll leave you to your motorbike and your _wandless Lubrication Charms_." He ended with a leer that had Potter blushing again. Draco would have given anything at that moment to know if it was chastity or guilt that caused the pink splotches on Potter's cheeks.

He returned the holly wand to its owner and turned toward the door.

"Hey, Malfoy! Want me to show you?"

Draco froze as any number of things he'd like Potter to _show_ him flitted through his mind, first and foremost being the prize tucked into those ill-concealing shorts he was wearing.

He schooled his features and turned, almost falling backward when he realized how close Potter was suddenly standing.

"Do you want me to show you?" Potter asked again, this time with a rumble in his voice that made Draco wonder if maybe he _was_ talking about the wand in his shorts.

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, cleared his throat, tried again. "Show me what?"

Potter grinned wolfishly. "My wandless Lubrication Charm. Want me to show you?"

"I… sure, Potter, whatever makes you happy." Draco did his best to sound bored.

Potter cupped one hand and held it between them. He muttered a quiet incantation and his palm and fingers were suddenly coated with a clear, viscous fluid. He held his hand up in invitation and Draco reluctantly dipped two fingers into the liquid.

Draco rubbed his thumb across both fingers and was reluctantly impressed at the quality. Frowning, he caught the scent of something unusual and raised his fingers to sniff the lubricant. The smell of black currants assaulted his senses.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Potter chose that moment to lean in close and whisper in his ear, "It's edible too."

Draco actually swayed with the force of his arousal. He'd never gotten so hard so fast in his entire life. And considering how easy it had been for him to become aroused during his third and fourth years at Hogwarts, that was saying something.

For one heart-stopping moment, Draco thought that they might kiss. He couldn't decide if he was horrified or thrilled at the prospect. He was leaning toward thrilled when a shimmer of magic and a loud POP made them both jump. Draco refused to be disappointed as the intimate mood from a moment before dissipated.

"What was that?" he asked, more breathlessly than he'd intended.

"The… um… the motorbike," Potter replied, looking decidedly sheepish.

Draco peered over his shoulder at the mostly dismantled bike and then returned his skeptical gaze to Potter.

"And perhaps a bit of wild magic on my part," Potter added reluctantly. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment and then immediately wrinkled his nose in disgust.

It took Draco a moment to realize Potter had just inadvertently slathered lubricant all over his own neck. Draco watched in fascination as Potter then reached down to wipe his hand on his shorts, only to realize there wasn't much in the way of material to use. He looked at his hand in dismay, before finally reaching around, presumably to wipe the remaining lubricant on his arse instead.

The concept of lube and Potter's arse flooded Draco's mind with more images than he could possibly process all at once. He made a noise that probably qualified as a whimper in some circles and his gaze immediately dropped to Potter's mouth. Draco's whole world narrowed down to those firm lips and how badly he wanted to kiss them. Then perhaps spin Potter around and lick the lubricant off of his neck, and elsewhere.

Potter seemed to be having similar ideas because he didn't appear to be able to tear his gaze away from Draco's mouth, either. Draco unconsciously licked his lips and watched Potter's eyes narrow and darken with lust. This time there was no wild magic or exploding motorbikes to stop them, though Draco could still sense Potter's power shimmering around them.

The kiss was… sweet, which was not at all what Draco expected. He'd expected a brash, Gryffindor kiss, a battle of wills and tongues. What he got instead was a firm, gentle kiss, full of soft licks and small nips. By the time he opened his mouth and allowed Potter's tongue entrance, he was weak-kneed and gripping Potter's biceps tightly. Potter didn't seem to mind, if the hands clutching at Draco's waist were anything to go by.

* * *

Harry pulled back slowly, savouring the hint of cinnamon on Malfoy's lips. A small part of his brain was screaming that he'd just kissed _Draco Malfoy_ and it was obviously time to check himself in to St. Mungo's. A larger, more pleased part of him wanted to know when he planned to do it again. He decided there was no time like the present and leaned forward.

Their second kiss was even better than the first, tongues were bolder, lips were more pliant. Despite the ecstasy of the moment, there was still a barrier between them. This was a tentative truce at best and any sudden movements would shatter it. Sure enough, Malfoy made a small sound of pleasure and then jerked back with a gasp, as if he'd startled himself.

By the look on his face, he had. His eyes were growing wider by the second and his jaw was slack. However, his pupils were still blown with lust from seconds before and he hadn't released his grip on Harry's arms. Hoping that was a good sign, Harry tugged on Malfoy's waist, just a little.

"Malfoy… Draco, before you—"

"No." The word was almost whispered but there was conviction behind it. Malfoy started shaking his head. "No. I can't. I _won't_."

"Draco, please."

"Potter…" Malfoy's voice was hardening, as was his expression.

In desperation, Harry relinquished his grip on the other man's waist to grasp his shoulders instead, holding him for a moment more. "Just think about it. Okay? No pressure. Just… consider the possibilities." _As I intend to the moment you leave,_ Harry added silently.

Draco hesitated then and Harry watched him wage a battle within himself. Finally, to Harry's relief, he gave a curt nod. "I'll… consider it. But now, I have to go."

"That's all I ask," Harry replied evenly, reluctantly releasing the soft fabric of Malfoy's robes.

The instant he was free, Draco spun on his heel and marched out of the garage. Harry felt the wards ripple as he passed through them. A moment later he felt another strange sensation, looking down he realized his terribly short shorts no longer concealed his terribly _interested_cock. He groaned in embarrassment. Perhaps it was just as well that Malfoy had left so quickly.

Thoughts of Draco, and the feel of his mouth, made Harry's erection throb against his thigh. Rather than try to hobble to his cottage, Harry flopped down in a nearby chair and tugged his cock free of his confining, yet revealing, clothing. He conjured a handful of lubricant and gripped himself tightly. The scent filled his nostrils and he moaned aloud. He would never smell black currants again without thinking of kissing Draco.

Harry tugged his prick harshly, flicking his thumb over the head while visions of those pink, kissable lips sucking him off filled his head. He used his free hand to flick his nipples and, in an embarrassingly short amount of time, he was coming with a shout and Draco's name on his lips.

Once his libido had cooled, and for the next several days, Harry tried to evaluate his feelings- was he attracted to men in general or Malfoy in particular?

He decided that his first foray back into Wizarding Society proper should probably _not_ be a visit to a gay bar for 'experimentation'. And as much as he loved Hermione, he wasn't sure he wanted to be psychoanalyzed just yet. Instead Harry settled on wanking experiments. He tried picturing various men he knew who were gay (Seamus Finnegan), or might be gay (Charlie Weasley), or who were so handsome they ought to be gay (Oliver Wood). However, by the time he was coming, they all ended up with blond hair and grey eyes.

Thinking that perhaps his experiments weren't entirely scientific, and wouldn't Hermoine be proud of him for _that _thought, Harry mail-ordered a very small Pensieve. It would only hold one short memory at a time but he thought it would be enough to suit his purposes. One by one Harry placed memories of different men he knew into the Pensieve. He would then delve into those memories and try to observe the man in question in a sexual light.

After a few nauseating mishaps, during which he decided he did not need to put EVERY man he knew up for review, Harry realized that Malfoy was the only one who consistently got him hard. His cock showed some interest in the Weasley twins together, but he thought that might be the kink factor more than anything else, and wasn't _that_ a revelation. But other than that, no one really… did it for him, other than Malfoy.

At first, Harry couldn't decide if he was encouraged or disheartened by this fact. Three weeks later, he was decidedly encouraged, or at the very least horny, and eagerly anticipated Draco's next visit. Only that visit never came.

He checked his calendar daily, thinking perhaps he'd miscalculated the time of Malfoy's last visit, but once three _more_ weeks had passed with no sign of Draco, Harry knew something was wrong. He was just considering contacting Hermione, since he was a bit too shy to contact Draco himself, when a chance visit from Luna brought the answer to Malfoy's absence.

Luna occasionally stopped by to check the Snorkack population on Harry's property and drop off the latest copy of the Quibbler. Harry began flipping through it while Luna waved a tea strainer about his back garden. One headline in particular caught his attention _Ministry Ends Wand Inspections: Enlightification Charms Thought To Be Involved_.

"Hey, Luna," he called absently, scanning the article, "what are Enlightification Charms?"

"Oh, that's easy, Harry," she replied from directly behind him, causing Harry to jump. "Enlightification Charms cause one to… what's the Muggle phrase? See the light."

Harry, used to dealing with Luna by now, knew enough to ask, "Literally or figuratively?"

"Literally, of course. Bright lights shone into the eyes has been known to inspire clarity of thought."

"Hmm…" Harry replied noncommittally, his mind was already racing ahead to other things. If the wand inspections had been abolished that would explain Draco's absence. The question was – "_Now what_?" Harry couldn't very well show up at his door and say, "Fancy going out for a drink?" Could he?

* * *

Draco was just finishing his last report of the day when the Weasel appeared in his office doorway. He assumed his most haughty look before calling an imperious, "Enter."

Weasley loped in and sprawled in the chair across from Draco's desk without being asked, uncultured lout.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Draco asked, sarcasm oozing from his words.

"This is about Harry."

Draco froze for a moment before pulling himself back together. "What does Precious Potty have to do with me?"

The Weasel stretched his hands behind his head. "Apparently quite a bit since he's spent the past week at my house mooning over you."

"I have no idea what you… wait, what?" Draco was torn between disbelief and something that he refused to put a name to, since it felt a little too close to _hope_ for his liking.

"Look, I know you two had a thing, or something, and that you haven't been back since. I'm here to convince you to give Harry a chance."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Did Potter put you up to this?"

Weasley snorted. "No. He'd have a fit if he knew I was here."

"Then why are you here? I can't believe you would condone a relationship between myself and Potter."

Weasley shifted uncomfortably for a moment before shrugging. "You seem to make Harry happy. I just want him to be happy. He deserves it."

Draco considered this for a moment. "So," he said cautiously, "what do you suggest?"

"This." The Weasel leaned forward and placed a set of rusted keys on Draco's desk.

"This isn't some 'key to his heart' tripe is it?" he asked suspiciously.

Weasley actually threw back his head and laughed. "Merlin, no! What kind of Hufflepuff do you take me for? Those are the keys to a particular item we confiscated a few weeks ago. I think it will help you with Harry."

Draco pulled his wand and cast every detection spell he knew before picking up the keys cautiously. Weasley rolled his eyes and stood. "You'll find it in the evidence room. They're expecting you to retrieve it." He paused at the door and looked back at Draco. "Hurt him and die, Malfoy."

Draco waved him off. "Yes, yes. I know."

* * *

Harry was at the auto parts store, again, when he felt the tug that meant someone had passed his wards. There were only a handful of people allowed through them but since he wasn't expecting anyone, he finished his purchases and returned home quickly.

He checked the cottage first but no one was waiting at his door, and no one was inside. Perplexed, he headed to the garage to drop off his latest acquisitions. What he found there stole his breath away.

Draco was leaning against a rusty truck wearing fitted black jeans and a sleeveless white shirt. His hair was artfully tousled and his shirt and arms were covered with grease smears.

"I… um… that is… hello," Harry stuttered, not sure if he was, perhaps, hallucinating.

Draco prowled forward with a determined glint in his eye. "Potter, just the man I was looking for."

Harry refrained from dropping to his knees to give thanks, but just barely. "Really? Yes, well, what can I do for you, Malfoy?"

Draco stopped in front of him and placed a hand on Harry's chest. He glanced up through his fringe almost coyly. "Well, you see, I'm in desperate need of a tune up."

Harry's knees trembled. "Is that so?"

"For my auto, you see." Draco glanced back at the vehicle behind him. "And you're the only mechanic I know. Do you think you can work me in?"

Harry spared a glance at the Muggle truck that seemed to be held together by rust and happy thoughts and not much else. "I think I can accommodate you, Malfoy." Harry snagged Draco's belt loop and dragged him in for a heated snog. When they finally came up for air Harry grinned at him. "Yes, I definitely think I can tweak your gears."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Less Gryffindor wit, more snogging," he demanded and kissed Harry again.


End file.
